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Should you be thinking about washroom remodeling, you may want to avoid engaging Lisa Herfeldt for the job.

Indeed, she's an expert with a silicone gun, creating intriguing sculptures out of an unusual medium. But the more look at her creations, the stronger one notices a certain aspect seems somewhat unnerving.

The thick lengths of sealant Herfeldt forms stretch over the shelves supporting them, drooping downwards to the ground. Those twisted silicone strands bulge before bursting open. A few artworks break free from their acrylic glass box homes completely, turning into a collector of debris and fibers. It's safe to say the reviews would not be favorable.

At times I get an impression that objects seem animated in a room,” states Herfeldt. This is why I came to use this substance as it offers this very bodily sensation and look.”

In fact there’s something rather body horror regarding these sculptures, from the suggestive swelling that protrudes, like a medical condition, off its base within the showspace, or the gut-like spirals made of silicone that rupture like medical emergencies. Displayed nearby, are mounted images of the works viewed from different angles: resembling microscopic invaders observed under magnification, or colonies in a lab setting.

What captivates me is the idea in our bodies occurring that seem to hold a life of their own,” the artist notes. Phenomena you can’t see or control.”

On the subject of unmanageable factors, the poster featured in the exhibition includes a photograph showing a dripping roof at her creative space located in Berlin. The building had been built in the early 1970s and, she says, faced immediate dislike by local people since many historic structures got demolished to allow its construction. It was already run-down when Herfeldt – originally from Munich although she spent her youth north of Hamburg before arriving in Berlin as a teenager – moved in.

This deteriorating space proved challenging for the artist – it was risky to display her pieces anxiously potential harm – but it was also fascinating. With no building plans on hand, no one knew the way to fix the malfunctions that developed. After a part of the roof in Herfeldt’s studio became so sodden it fell apart fully, the only solution involved installing the damaged part – thus repeating the process.

At another site, the artist explains dripping was extreme so multiple shower basins were installed within the drop ceiling to divert leaks to another outlet.

It dawned on me that the building acted as a physical form, a totally dysfunctional body,” the artist comments.

This scenario brought to mind a classic film, the initial work 1974 film about an AI-powered spacecraft that develops independence. As the exhibition's title suggests given the naming – three distinct names – more movies have inspired impacting Herfeldt’s show. Those labels refer to main characters in Friday 13th, Halloween plus the sci-fi hit as listed. Herfeldt cites a 1987 essay written by Carol J Clover, outlining these surviving characters as a unique film trope – protagonists by themselves to save the day.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, rather quiet enabling their survival due to intelligence,” the artist explains about such characters. No drug use occurs or engage intimately. And it doesn’t matter who is watching, everyone can relate to the survivor.”

The artist identifies a connection linking these figures with her creations – objects which only staying put under strain they’re under. So is her work really concerning cultural decay than just leaky ceilings? Because like so many institutions, substances like silicone intended to secure and shield from deterioration are gradually failing around us.

“Absolutely,” responds the artist.

Before finding inspiration with sealant applicators, the artist worked with different unconventional substances. Previous exhibitions have involved organic-looking pieces using fabric similar to found in within outdoor gear or apparel lining. Similarly, one finds the sense these peculiar objects seem lifelike – a few are compressed as insects in motion, pieces hang loosely off surfaces blocking passages attracting dirt from footprints (She prompts viewers to touch and soil the works). Like the silicone sculptures, those fabric pieces are similarly displayed in – leaving – inexpensive-seeming transparent cases. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and that's the essence.

“They have a particular style that somehow you feel compelled by, and at the same time being quite repulsive,” the artist comments grinning. “It tries to be not there, however, it is very present.”

The artist does not create work to make you feel ease or visual calm. Instead, she aims for uncomfortable, awkward, or even humor. And if there's something wet dripping overhead as well, don’t say this was foreshadowed.